


A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

by ifishouldvanish



Series: Gold On The Soles Of Her Shoes [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, OUAT Positivity Gift Exchange, Oral Sex, PWP, PWP that takes a while to get to the center of the tootsie pop, Smut, This is vaguely supposed to be funny, before it gets smutty anyway, but like, but neither actually happens, footjobs?, male submission, shoe fetishism, sub!Gold, there are brief mentions of spanking and cuckolding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr Gold adores his wife. He also adores her impractical taste in footwear. (AKA: “The one where Gold has a shoe fetish”)</p><p>OUAT Positivity Exchange Gift for @of-princes-and-savages, who offered me their left kidney in exchange for a sub!Gold who maybe has “more than a passing interest” in Belle’s shoes. (You can keep your kidney, by the way)</p><p>Nominated for Best Smut-Kink in the 2017 TEAs!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dedicated Follower of Fashion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Of_Princes_and_Savages](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Of_Princes_and_Savages/gifts).



> For anybody unsure, the designer's name is roughly pronounced "loo-boo-TAHN". It comes up quite a bit.

Mr Gold couldn’t fight the grin that formed on his face every time he stepped into Belle’s closet. There was only one thing that could rival his wife’s book collection, and that was her shoe collection. Dozens upon dozens of boots and pumps and stilettos in leather and patent and suede.

When she'd first moved in, she’d kick her heels off and leave them scattered about the floor, but Mr Gold wouldn’t have that. It was sacrilege. Within a week, he’d hired a contractor to install custom shelving in the walk-in closet so that Belle's shoes could have a proper home. All seventy-two pairs of them. Admittedly, she didn’t have so many at first— about twenty, perhaps. But what good was it being the wealthiest man in town if you weren’t going to spoil your girlfriend with a new pair of Louboutins, McQueens, or Valentinos at every opportunity?

Granted, they were as much for himself as they were for her, but it wasn’t his fault she made them look so damned good.

And she _did_ make them look good.

So, so good.

There wasn’t much that delighted Mr Gold more than for his wife to come home from work and relay to him all the compliments she’d received on her shoes throughout the day. She'd smile and kiss him on the cheek and tell him what good husband he was and what great taste he had. He’d swelled with pride last month at the mayor’s annual fundraising gala when Regina Mills herself took notice of the four-and-a-half inch Chanel pumps Belle was wearing. It was another one of her trademark backhanded compliments, of course— but backhanded compliments were just indicators of jealously, Gold always thought. And he hadn’t missed the way Mr Locksley could hardly keep his eyes off Belle’s feet, either. ...Or perhaps he'd only imagined that.

Mr Gold was already giddy, his thumb circling over his forefinger as his eyes wandered from one pair to the next. It was date night, and Belle would be out of the shower soon. She’d come out wrapped in her robe, thumb through the closet until deciding on a dress to wear, and then assign him the honorable task of choosing her heels and lingerie for the evening. Tonight they were to have a double date with Miss Lucas and her fiance, Dr Whale. Ruby Lucas’ shoe collection was certainly impressive, Gold had to admit. In fact, he often wondered if the good doctor also shared his er, _passion_ for fine ladies’ footwear. All possibilities considered, Mr Gold wanted to be particularly mindful with his selection tonight.

As he glanced over the shelves one by one, he found his eyes repeatedly drawn to a pair of black, patent, almond-toe Louboutins with the designer's signature red soles— timeless, elegant, sexy. He hoped Belle would choose a dress that could do them justice tonight. Feeling confident, he removed them from the shelf and began to wipe them down  (with a lint-free cloth of course). She’d worn them a few times before, perhaps five? They were gently broken in and still had that new shoe smell, yet they'd been christened sufficiently enough to have a comforting and alluring trace of Belle’s… _odor_ , for want of a better word.

Mr Gold let out a scoff as he rubbed a smudge off of the otherwise gleaming patent. It was a few months ago that Neal and Emma had taken notice of just how impressive Belle’s collection really was. The newlyweds had come over for dinner, and Emma had complimented Belle on her cherry red Miu Miu pumps (the ones with the little ribbons that go around the ankles). Neal wasn't too thrilled to find out his father was spending so much of his money on something as frivolous as designer shoes— after all, he always thought his father had a tendency to shower his loved ones with material things instead of the kind, thoughtful gestures they all loved him for in the first place.

Nonetheless, the conversation had inspired a little impromptu fashion show. Mr Gold, his son, and his daughter-in-law all watched as the petite librarian modeled a few highlights from her collection. It was positively torturous, and Mr Gold was convinced his wife was purposefully showing off the pairs she knew drove him mad. But just as Mr Gold was beginning to forget he had guests, Emma gasped and made the ludicrous suggestion: “You’ll have to let me borrow a pair one night!”

Borrow a pair? Talk about absurd.

Fortunately, as Gold's wife was quick to point out, the new Mrs _Swan_ -Gold had much larger feet than she. Therefore, mercifully, no attempt was made to try them on.

But could you _imagine?_

Mr Gold bore no ill will toward his daughter-in-law, but had she slipped on those Jimmy Choo sandals he was so fond of, he’d never be able to enjoy them properly again.

He shook away the memory and realized he’d been buffing away at the same spot all this time. It was at this moment he heard the faucet squeak and the sound of running water coming to a stop. After a few minutes, his wife emerged in a cloud of steam from the bathroom, donning a terry robe.

“Someone's excited about tonight,” Belle smiled as she stepped into the closet, finding her husband rubbing away at her shoes.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.” He said, setting the heels down. “I know you haven't chosen your dress yet, but I just— I thought—”

“Shh…” Belle cupped his face in her hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I know, Rum. You just want to help me look my best, don't you?”

Mr Gold nodded.

“Such a good husband.” She praised, rustling a hand through his hair. “Why don't _you_ pick my dress tonight? Would you like that?”

 _“Yes.”_ He answered quickly, but it came out in a whisper.

As far as Mr Gold was concerned, a lady should always pick their shoes first. It was a good pair of shoes that made the outfit, after all. A dress ought to be considered _lucky_ for the honor of being paired with a good shoe. The thought that he had his wife's permission to do just that— build an outfit around her shoes— was a tremendous thrill. It was as though he finally had an opportunity to showcase a talent, and he wanted to do his best to impress her so that before long, he might be given the same opportunity again.

But even so, it wasn't about him; it was about Belle, and what _she_ would feel the most confident and beautiful in. Mr Gold settled on a cobalt blue shift dress with half-length sleeves. The color would bring out her eyes, make her ivory skin glow, and her chestnut curls shine. Such a bold shade of blue paired with black patent pumps would certainly be a show-stopping contemporary look, and the pop of red from the soles of the Louboutins would positively turn heads. Anyone who caught a glimpse of them would instantly recognize the pumps as the true focal point of the ensemble. As they should be.

As far as underthings went, Mr Gold felt the relatively austere styling of her outfit would call for something far more delicate. He decided on a sheer nude set with a large, scalloped trim. It was still a very modern style, yet it possessed a certain playful femininity that provided the perfect counterpoint to what Belle would be wearing over it. Mr Gold was confident she would feel absolutely radiant in it, and that was the point of it all— making her feel like the goddess that she truly was.

Belle quickly approved his selections for the evening as he laid them out over their bed and invited him to help her dress— a service he was always more than happy to provide. In fact, Mr Gold enjoyed watching his wife get dressed more than he did the alternative. He could see the way her demeanor grew ever saucier with each layer of clothing, delighting in the knowledge that he’d done that for her— bolstered her confidence with such a deeply intimate act. Dressing a woman wasn’t about merely staying on top of what was in vogue or what might be figure-flattering, and it certainly wasn’t about fulfilling his own desires. No, it took a special understanding of a woman to develop an ensemble that reflected her inner beauty and personal style. No other man could dress his Belle like he did, and he took great pleasure in the fact.

Once the lingerie and dress were on, she’d retreated to the bathroom to do her makeup. Then came the moment Mr Gold had been looking forward to all day.

Belle sat in the wing-back chair across from their bed and he rushed over with the Louboutins, settling on his knees before her. She poked her right foot up toward him and let him slide the first shoe on. Then came the left. With both heels on, Belle looked down at her ankles and gave an approving smile.

Yes. He’d done good work.

 

*****

  


By the time Mrs and Mr Gold walked into The Rabbit Hole, their company had already arrived.

“There they are!” Miss Lucas flagged them down from the booth she had occupied with her fiancé and scoot out of her seat. “Victor, come on! Don't be rude!” She snipped at him, and he begrudgingly followed as she teetered over to give Belle a hug. “It's so nice to see you guys! And— Whoa! Those are some _killer_ heels, Belle!”

Mr Gold glanced at each of the women's feet with a satisfied little smirk. Miss Lucas’ shoes, however nice, were clearly no match for Belle's. And she knew it. Everyone did. They had to.

“Aw, thanks! Rum uh, picked them out.” Belle said with a smile, rubbing a hand over her husband's arm affectionately. “He did such a good job, didn't he?” She cooed and planted a kiss on his cheek. These were the sort of moments Mr Gold lived for. The attention. The praise. The validation. The knowledge that his Belle was pleased with him.

“Not bad, Gold,” Ruby winked. “A man with such good taste is hard to find these days,” she added pointedly, nudging her fiancé with her elbow.

Gold and Victor shared uncomfortable glances until the women finally dragged them back to the booth. The four of them hesitated around the table for moment until Mr Gold cleared his throat and took a step back.

“Ladies first.” He insisted, gesturing an invitation for his wife to sit.

Belle smiled and pecked his cheek again, having him hold her purse while she slid into the booth. “Such a gentleman.”

  


“So, how's the wedding coming along?” Belle asked excitedly.

“Oh, it's going to be _so_ amazing, Belle!” Ruby bubbled with glee. Victor glanced away idly.

“So… Have you uh, found _the dress_?” Belle asked, biting back a smile.

“Well..." The soon-to-be Mrs Whale pursed her lips apprehensively for a moment. “I’m torn between this super poofy fairy-tale ball gown style, and this totally sexy mermaid silhouette.”

“Oh, Ruby!” Belle sighed wistfully. “I'm sure you'll look absolutely gorgeous in either one!” She assured.

Mr Gold coughed. He couldn’t resist. Or perhaps moreover, he couldn’t stand by and allow a potential disaster to happen. Ruby was Belle’s best friend, after all. “Might I offer my opinion, Miss Lucas?”

Belle shot him a cold look and gave his shoulder an admonishing shove. “Rum! It's _her_ wedd—”

“Sure.” Ruby shrugged and took a sip of her Cosmo. “Hit me.”

“Go with the mermaid silhouette.” He said simply.

Ruby smiled. “...You think so?”

“Certainly.” Gold nodded. “While a woman of your ah, stature could certainly pull off a ball gown effortlessly, I think you know as well as I do that it simply doesn’t suit your style. You’re a vixen. A she-wolf. A femme fatale with a flair for the dramatic and a brash irreverence for tradition— You shouldn't have to sacrifice that part of yourself for the mere novelty of a fairy-tale wedding.” He paused and took a sip of his Scotch. “...Definitely the mermaid, Miss Lucas. You’ll be quite the vision, I’m sure of it.”

“...Huh.” Ruby answered thoughtfully.

“Wouldn’t you agree, doctor?”

“Yes,” Victor nodded, wrapping an arm around his fiancee. “I think Mr Gold is spot on, honey.”

“I suppose you're right. The ball gown is just kinda what Granny would like.” Ruby sighed.

From the corner of his eye, Mr Gold caught his wife looking at him, her lips contorted into a smile she was fighting to hold back. She was impressed and it made his heart swell with pride.

“As for your shoes…” Gold continued with a smug grin, “something light, strappy, open— Something that alludes to your vivacious spirit, Miss Lucas.”

“I agree, Rubes.” Victor volunteered quickly. “One-hundred percent. Definitely a sandal. Or-or at least a uh, peep-toe.” He met Mr Gold’s gaze for a second before hurriedly glancing away and taking a swig of his beer.

“Alright,” Ruby grinned from ear to ear. “Mermaid with strappy heels it is, then!” Victor smiled and eased back in his seat. “Actually--” Ruby continued, fishing her phone out of her purse and swiping her fingers across the screen. She finally set the device down on the table, inviting everyone to look at the pair of Vince Camuto sandals she'd pulled up. “What do you guys think of _these?_ ”

Before Mr Gold or Belle could get a good look, Victor quickly snatched the phone up, his eyes widening as be got a closer look. “Yes.” He said stiffly, clearing his throat. “I think those will do fine, Rubes.” He slowly set the phone back down and Belle immediately grabbed it.

“Oh, Rum!” She gasped, “Look at how beautiful those are…”

He leaned over her shoulder to see them, white satin heels with straps that criss-crossed elegantly over the top of the foot. They were very nice indeed, but not something he could ever imagine Belle wearing. He wasn't terribly impressed.

“Very nice, Miss Lucas.” He acknowledged with a curt nod as Belle handed the phone back.

“They're kinda pricey though,” Ruby lamented. “I've never dropped one-seventy-five on a single pair of shoes before!”

“You could always um, go barefoot.” Victor pointed out and his fiancé huffed. “What? No one's gonna see your feet anyway!” He teased, yet simultaneously seemed to be completely serious.

“Victor!” Ruby admonished, a slight blush rising to her cheeks. He flashed her a smile and Mr Gold was fairly certain he caught the doctor blushing as well.

 _Sandals._ Of course, Gold thought. The doctor didn't have an affinity for shoes at all. He just had an affinity for feet. He smiled inwardly, pleased with himself for finally having figured it out.

Belle bit back a smile and grasped her friend’s hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Rum and I are just so excited for you two! I know I've uh, said this before, but if you guys need anything— recommendations, help with organizing...”

Mr Gold checked out of the conversation at this point, for he’d allowed his eyes to wander from their table to the bar, where one of the regulars was seated.

Fucking Nottingham.

The bastard was helping himself to a visual feast, eyeing Belle without a modicum of subtlety. He always did. Mr Gold glared at him from across the room not because he was threatened by the man, no. He knew he wasn’t good enough for Belle. Wasn’t worthy. But the way he just eyed her hungrily— Mr Gold knew he was thinking about all the things he might like to do _to_ Belle, rather than _for_ her.

Repugnant.

That was the problem with most men these days, Gold thought. They’ve all lost sight of the natural order of things— That women were goddesses to be worshipped. After all, his life had only changed for the better since he'd met Belle.

Who was he before she came strutting into his shop and into his life that fine afternoon anyway? A lonely, bitter old fuck with nothing to look forward to but the look of terror on a tenant's face at the mention of the words _rent increase,_ that's who. But no— Belle made him look forward to things like the sunrise, a perfectly brewed cup of tea, cozy reading weather, and seeing what kind of statement she had chosen to wear on her feet each day. She didn't just make him a better man, she made him _want to be_ a better man, and he had her to thank for his recently repaired relationship with his son.

To think, there were men who thought so highly of themselves as to demand and expect smiles from strange women! No, no— They ought to fall to their knees before a woman, and consider themselves lucky should she be so generous as to cast a passing glance in their direction. Mr Gold scoffed into his scotch. That was precisely Belle’s ex’s problem. Gaston? Worthless sod didn’t know how to appreciate what he had. Had the audacity to assume he was the one who ought to be calling the shots.

“Hey. Gold.”

What could a scumbag like Nottingham possibly know about serving and caring for a woman anyway? He'd never be able to satisfy Belle. Or any woman for that matter.

“...Rum, sweetheart?”

Such a man thought all a woman needed was for him to thrust his desperate cock inside her a few times. Mr Gold almost pitied them for their schoolboy naivete. A woman's cunt wasn't just a mere receptacle, empty without a man to fill her— It was a sacred chalice he should feel honored for the privilege of drinking from.

“Hello, Earth to Gold!?”

Mr Gold blinked away his thoughts, shifting in the booth a little as he cleared his throat. Everyone was staring at him expectantly. “I-Ah… yes?”

“Do you remember when Jefferson's art exhibition opens, Rum?” The doctor asked.

“Oh. Right.” Mr Gold chuckled awkwardly. “Wednesday. The eighteenth. At seven.”

“Ah, the eighteenth!” Everyone recalled at once.

Anyway, yes. Nottingham. Gaston. Male chauvinist pigs.

  


The conversation at the table began to dwindle, and Miss Lucas excused herself to use the ladies’ room. Having scoot out of the booth to let his fiancée out, the doctor took the opportunity to head to the restroom himself— leaving husband and wife with a moment to themselves.

They were silent for a moment, but then Mr Gold felt something brush against his leg. Something smooth. Like patent. No, not _like_ patent— it definitely _was_ patent. He glanced at Belle hopelessly and she just looked at him, nibbling her lip.

“Sweetheart, _please_.” He rasped.

“What’s the matter, Rum?” She teased. “You don’t like playing _footsie_ with me?”

“On the contrary, my dear,” he murmured. “I like it entirely too much.”

“So then uh, what’s the problem?” She asked, continuing to rub her foot against him. The patent was gliding so smoothly against his trousers, in a rhythm that was nothing short of suggestive.

 _Gods_. She was going to get him hard. Hell, he was already halfway there. She started dragging the tip of the heel up and down his leg teasingly. He cursed himself for enjoying it so much.

“Belle, I— _Christ!_ ” Mr Gold nearly jumped out of his seat as she slid a hand over his thigh and gripped him, testing the waters. She rounded her lips in feigned surprise at what she found.

“Well isn’t this an interesting development?” She smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “We’ll have to uh... investigate that tonight, won’t we?”

“Yes,” He cleared his throat, letting an eager little grin spread across his face. “Tonight. Thank you, darling.”

At the sound of Ruby’s heels approaching, Belle pulled away and pressed a kiss to his cheek. _“I look forward to it.”_ She whispered into his ear, giving him a finishing pat.

“Aw, look at you two!” Miss Lucas beamed as she settled back into the booth. “So cute!” The doctor slid in beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders. “Vic, I hope you and I will still be so smitten after two years of marriage,” she sighed.

“Of course we will, Rubes,” Victor assured, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her temple.

“We have our ups and downs,” Belle admitted. “But you find ways to uh, make things work,” She winked and rubbed her shoe against her husband under the table again. “...Don’t we, Rum?”

Mr Gold cleared his throat. “Yes. Ah, c-communication.” He stammered. “...Very important.”

“Yeah?” Ruby returned a sly little smirk. “You’ll have to give this one some pointers,” she teased, giving Victor a nudge.

“...Right.” Gold chuckled uncomfortably.

“We'll save that for the bachelor party, right buddy?” Victor joked.

“Hey!” Ruby cried, giving him a light smack.

“Come on, you know I'm not that kind of man anymore.” He laughed, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

“Oh, you two will be fine,” Belle assured. “You have love. Everything else will follow.”

  


*****

  


The ride home had consisted of very little conversation, as Mr Gold tried his damnedest to focus on the road. They’d barely gotten out of the parking lot when Belle unbuckled her seat belt, turned around in her seat, and began using her husband’s lap as a foot rest. It was so tempting to take a hand off the wheel and rub it over her shoes, but he knew she was testing him. When they’d made it back home, Mr Gold made sure to help her out of the car, open the doors for her, and take her coat. He then rushed into the bedroom first so that he could turn the lights on for her. Like a proper gentleman should.

Belle stood in the center of their bedroom, her figure veiled in the warm, soft light cast by the Tiffany lamp in the corner. "Help me?” She asked, lifting her hair up to reveal the two little buttons at the nape of her neck.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Mr Gold set his cane down and stepped behind her, his fingers nimbly freeing the satin covered buttons from their tiny loops. “There were are,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. He then settled into the wing-back chair, propping his gain against it's side, and began removing his oxfords. When he glanced back up, his wife was standing before him with her hands grasping the hem of her dress. Satisfied she had his attention, she slowly raised the garment up over her head and dropped it onto the floor. He drank in the sight of her, wearing nothing but her Louboutins and the lingerie he’d picked out earlier. _Gods_ , she looked incredible.

She strut over and smiled, towering over him in her heels. “You did such a good job dressing me tonight, Rum. I felt so... _seductive._ ”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Mr Gold nodded. “Though the pleasure—” he paused to press a light kiss to the back of her hand, “was all mine.”

She planted her left foot up on the edge of the chair, wedging the toe of her shoe between his thighs. “These are your favorite, aren’t they?” Belle mused, rocking her toe up and down against his crotch. He tried not to let on how much it affected him, but he was fairly certain he gave himself away when had to clear his throat.

“ _Bianca_ is a classic, my dear.” Gold explained as calmly as he could, tentatively tracing his finger along the topline of the shoe, just grazing the cleavage of her toes. It was one of his favorite things about its design— the low cut offering a view of something titillating and forbidden. “The rounded toe,” Gold continued, “The sleek silhouette. The daring platform and towering height. ...It strikes the perfect balance between sophisticated and sexy, Belle— Just like you.” He winked.

“Such a silver tongue,” Belle teased, leaning forward and tracing her fingers along his jawline, tilting his chin up. “Perhaps we ought to put it good use.”

Mr Gold couldn’t help shifting in his seat at the suggestion, scooting closer to her. “Anything you want, sweetheart.” He assured eagerly.

Belle drew her hand back. “That man—” She murmured, changing the subject. “At the bar. He was looking at me all night.”

“I saw.” Gold said simply. He had plenty of thoughts on the matter, but he could hold his tongue for the time being. She didn’t like him irate.

“He uh, _desired_ me.” She said with a naughty little smile, continuing to rub her shoe into him.

Mr Gold scoffed lightly. She was teasing him. “How could he not, sweetheart? You _are_ a remarkable woman, after all.”

“He could have taken me home and fucked me…” she continued, trying to get a rise out of her husband. “Given me pleasure all night.”

“Ah,” he snickered. “And yet— _here we are._ ”

Belle could bait him all she wanted, but he wasn’t falling for it. Besides, Mr Gold knew his wife secretly enjoyed it when he was a little saucy with her.

“Well, doesn’t it make you jealous? Knowing what other men must think about me? ...The kind of—” she paused and ran a hand over her curves and through her hair, “ _dirty thoughts_ they must have?”

Mr Gold caressed her calf idly, resisting the temptation to press her foot harder against him. “I say let them torture themselves their thoughts.”

“So you uh, don’t feel threatened?” Belle asked, her voice subtly laced with disappointment.

“I see no reason to, no.” He shrugged. “Not while I enjoy the privilege of receiving my torment from the Mistress herself.” He added, looking down to watch the way she was working him up with her foot.

“Well what if—” She began quickly but paused and nibbled her lip for a second. “What if I took another lover?”

“I fail to see the necessity in that.” Gold scoffed and Belle let out a huff that thrilled him. As much as he lived to please his wife, Mr Gold couldn't resist being a little fresh with her from time to time.

“Someone’s feeling confident this evening...” Belle murmured, burying the toe of her shoe deeper beneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the way she felt there, rubbing against his groin.

“What can I say?” He finally said with a smirk, gently stroking a finger along her ankle. “I might ah, enjoy a bit of healthy competition.”

Belle suddenly dug the toe of her shoe into him harder, and he let out a deep groan.

“Such impudence in you tonight.” She grinned. “I ought to punish you, Mr Gold.”

“Mm… are you suggesting a spanking, Miss French?” He hinted cheekily.

“No,” Belle dismissed, pulling her foot away. “You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Well then.” Gold sighed, trying not to let his expression reveal the mild disappointment he felt. “I would happily accept my punishment in whichever form my Mistress deems appropriate.” He said with a small bow.

Belle smiled mischievously and trailed her fingers along his cheek. “Then perhaps I _will_ take another lover. Just for one night. Have him pleasure me while you watch, so you can be reminded of your place.” She teased, the sternness of her expression fading into something far more playful as she held back a giggle.

“I— Belle—” He scoffed, trying to sound more affronted than amused. Mr Gold found Belle utterly bewitching when she was in control, but he still found it adorable when she slipped out of character.

The iciness returned to her features and she dug her toe into him again. _“Miss French.”_ She corrected him.

“Miss French. Please. Anything but _that_ ,” he protested. “It would drive me absolutely mad!”

“Then I want you to prove it to me, Rum— show me you’re the only lover I need.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a satisfied grin. Grasping her ankle, he nodded toward the floor. “...May I?”

“Yes you may.” Belle said, lowering her foot to the floor so he could get up.

Once he was on his feet, he made a sweeping gesture toward the chair. “Please. Sit.”

Belle spun around and her husband took her hand while she situated herself primly in the wing-back chair. He pressed a kiss to her hand and settled on his knees before her, shrugging off his jacket.

She looked down her nose at him expectantly and he began to massage her calves, working all the right muscles that had grown sore from teetering in heels all day. Belle leaned back and let out a contented groan, nodding for him to continue. After a few minutes, he focused his attention down to her feet. One at a time, he brought them to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss to the tip each of the Louboutins she wore. They weren’t just shoes-- they were an extension of her, and so he cradled them in his hands, gently rubbing his thumbs over the slick patent while he kissed them again and again. He inhaled the scent of each shoe, and began slowly tracing his tongue along the length of them.

At first, Mr Gold had been rather hesitant to carry out his desires in such a way. It was one thing to be aroused by the way a pair of high heels shaped a woman's legs, or to ask that she leave them on during intercourse. But he had been convinced that if Belle ever discovered the full extent of his interest, she’d certainly be disturbed by it. Or laugh at him. He wasn’t sure which would have been worse. However, when he’d finally worked up the courage for the first time, Belle confessed that it was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced. How wet it made her to watch him worship her.

He kept kissing and sucking at her heels, until suddenly her feet were pulling away and planting themselves on the floor. “Enough.” Belle cut in and slowly spread her legs. “I want you to taste me, Rum.”

Mr Gold glanced up at her with a devilish smile and let go of her feet. “...Of course, Miss French.” Running his hands up her thighs, he slipped his fingers beneath the trim of her panties and began to tug them off. Belle raised her hips, allowing him to peel them down to her ankles. Seeing the damp lace draped there, suspended between her stilettos, made his cock stiffen a little. It was a positively thrilling sight. He slid his hands up and down her thighs for a moment, admiring the way the pumps elevated her knees, making her that much more open to him. Burying his face between her thighs, he dragged his nose along her folds and inhaled deeply. “ _Fuck_ , you smell so incredible,” He groaned, his words muffled by her thighs. The subtle vibration of his voice made Belle tingle and moan. “You are so god damned perfect.”

“Show me, Rum. Show your Mistress you can make her come..”

“Yes, Miss French.” He said before painting a broad stroke over her slit with his tongue. He repeated the maneuver a few times, increasing the pressure with each pass. “It's such a privilege to serve you like this.” He gasped between breaths. He took a deep breath and flicked his tongue against her clit, delighting in the way she flinched and gasped at the jolt of pleasure it sent through her nerves. Continuing his efforts, he buried himself deeper, drinking her down as though she were the first drop he'd had in days. She let out a contented moan as he wiggled his tongue between her folds, massaging her lips with his own, tugging and sucking on them.

“You're doing so good, baby.” Belle sighed, squirming in the chair a little. “But I know you can do better,” she teased. “I want you to devour me.”

He forged ahead— for how could anyone argue with such a request? He plunged deeper, exploring every fold and crevice. His tongue swirled around her clit-- clockwise, counter clockwise. Slowly, then suddenly quickly. He pulled back, then returned, steadily flicking the tip of his tongue against her again. Softly, then suddenly with vigor.

“Oh, God!” Belle gasped, beginning to writhe against him. “Oh Rum, Yes! _Yes!_ ”

With that encouragement, he quickened his pace. She whimpered and scoot to the very edge of her seat, kicking her panties off one leg so that she could draw her knees up and over his shoulders. Mr Gold felt her ankles lock around him as she rolled her hips against him for more friction. The length of her stilettos dug into his shoulders, spurring him on. Soon Belle was clutching his hair and crying out in ecstasy, her thighs clamping tightly around his head, almost suffocating him. He took her engorged bud between his lips and sucked gently as she rode out her climax, her hips bucking into him in spurts as the waves of aftershocks crashed over her. As her body finally fell limp, he ran his tongue back along her slit, lapping up his reward.

Charting kisses along her thighs, Mr Gold slowly retreated from her, his hair disheveled and his face coated with sweat and come. Belle swung a leg up and pressed her heel against her husband’s chest. He immediately inched closer, relishing the weighty feel of the shoe against his sternum. Belle watched with interest as he traced his fingers along the spike of the heel, stroking it delicately.

“Have I satisfied you, sweetheart?” He asked, his lips curling into an accomplished grin.

Belle took a deep breath. “...Almost.” She whispered.

Mr Gold cocked his head to the side, curious to see what else his wife might have in mind. Belle continued to eye him for a moment, but he couldn’t quite read her expression. “What is it, darling?”

He watched as his wife nibbled her lip, biting back a cheeky little smile. She then thrust her foot into him, throwing him off balance for a second. “I want you to undress for me.”

“As you wish, Miss French.” Gold nodded and began to hastily unbutton his waistcoat. “Anything you want, you shall have.”

“ _Slowly_ , Rum.” She instructed, fighting back one of those precious giggles of hers.

Mr Gold froze and glanced up at her, raising a brow.

Belle nodded, licking her lips. She straightened her posture and crossed her legs. “I uh, want to watch you.”

His gold-capped tooth glinted in the soft light as he flashed her a smile. “...Of course, sweetheart.”

Mr Gold slowly unfastened the remaining button on his waistcoat, being sure to take his time as he slid it off his shoulders before letting it drop to the floor. Then came his tie. His hands drifted up to the Prince Albert knot at his throat and his fingers began loosening the silk with hypnotic dexterity. With the knot undone, he slowly pulled the length of the tie out from beneath his collar. He held it out to her for a moment, pinched between his fingers, before releasing it and letting it drop onto her lap with a smug grin.

Belle scoot to the edge of her seat and cleared her throat quietly. Her fingers entwined with the silk idly as she continued to watch.

Mr Gold repeated the process with his belt, sliding it out slowly and letting it coil at her feet. He caught his wife biting down on her lip as he unzipped himself and pushed his trousers down to his knees, revealing his shirt garters. He slowly unclipped them, the clasps falling to the floor with a light jingle. He was hard, though not quite fully erect yet, and Belle smiled at the sight of him when he pushed his boxers down.

Both hands pinched at the bottom button of his shirt. Once it was unfastened, he paused, letting his wife be suspended in anticipation before moving on to the next. Soon enough, he was fingering at the topmost button and sliding the garment off of his shoulders, leaving only a white cotton undershirt. He had been sweating a little from his earlier efforts, and so the fabric clung to his body in a few wonderful places. After pulling it over his head and dropping it on Belle's lap, he was finally gloriously nude, save for the trousers pooled on the floor around his knees.

“So handsome...” Belle smiled. She outstretched her leg, rubbing her foot against his cheek and he leaned into the touch, relishing the feel of the smooth patent against his skin. “...Do you like that?” She asked.

“Yes, Miss French.” He nodded.

“You may touch, if you’d like.” She offered, and his mouth twitched into a smile.

_Of course he’d like._

Mr Gold slowly drew a hand up to touch her shoe. “Thank you so much, darling.” He rasped and pressed it firmly into his cheek, rubbing against it. He took a finger and began stroking the seam of the platform. Turning his face toward it, he inhaled deeply, dragging his nose from heel to toe. It smelled of leather and rubber and sweat and _Belle_. The heady combination of it all excited him and Belle smiled, admiring the physical effect it had on him.

“ _God_ ,” he groaned, pressing a kiss to the patent. “I'm such a lucky man, Belle.”

 _“Miss French.”_ She repeated, snapping her foot away.

 _“I’m sorry, Miss French,”_ he corrected hurriedly, his bereft eyes following her foot. “Please forgive me.”

“...You’re forgiven,” Belle smiled. “Would you like the other one now?” She asked.

“Yes. _Please.”_

“So polite,” Belle teased, offering him her other foot.

With the second shoe still cool to the touch, all of the sensations returned anew. The slick patent glided over his skin effortlessly until it eventually grew warm from the contact with his hot, flushed cheek. He gently stroked the length of the stiletto with his forefinger and drew his lips to the tip of the shoe, planting a kiss there. Then another. He continued to mouth at the Louboutin for a moment longer until Belle smacked her lips and slowly pulled it away, watching how he followed after it, desperate to maintain contact.

“Oh, Rum... Look at how hard you are for me.” She murmured, leaning forward and taking him in hand. “Would you like to come?”

He nodded quickly. “Yes, Miss French.”

Belle settled back in the chair, looking down at him as though she were a powerful goddess and he merely one of her mortal subjects. She reached out to the end table at her side and gently opened the drawer. Without taking her eyes off of him, she groped through the drawer and produced a bottle of lubricant. He held out a hand and let her squeeze a drop into his palm.  “I want you to touch yourself for me, Rum.” She explained. “...Slowly.”

“Of course.” He nodded and began to slowly trail his index finger up his length. Belle gave him an encouraging nod, inviting him to take himself in hand.

“Go on, baby.” She cooed. “I'll tell you when.”

He wrapped his fingers around his cock and looked back down at  Belle’s feet, slowly pumping himself. Her ankles were so delicate, like that of a doe, but his wife was no such thing. She was a warrior, a force to be reckoned with. Unstoppable. She was petite, but deceptively strong. He supposed that was part of the appeal for him. The shoes weren't just about the aesthetic-- they were symbolic. Of strength, of power, of grace. Belle wielded them like Athena wielded the spear, and Mr Gold wanted nothing more than to pray at her altar-- to give her everything that he had in the hope that she might offer him her favor.

“So beautiful...” Belle murmured. “Now go on. Let me see how desperately you need it, Rum.”

Gold's breaths grew shallow and quickened as he inched closer to the precipice. A grunt escaped his throat and Belle wet her lips. She poked her foot out toward him and rolled her ankle, giving him a glimpse of the red soles of her shoes. His body jerked suddenly at the sight of them, and he graduated to fucking his hand with abandon. She could crush him with those heels. Part of him wanted her to, so that he might experience the full extent of her glorious strength. Yet the other part of him delighted in the fact that she wouldn't-- that Belle was a just goddess who would protect him.

 _“Gods, Belle.”_ He groaned. “I--” His utterance was cut off by his own gasping breaths.

“Stop.” She ordered calmly, and he immediately let go of himself. “...I think you're ready for me now.” She said, pursing her lips to stop from smiling. She picked his cane off the floor and offered it to him. “Why don't you uh, get in bed for me, hm?”

Mr Gold blinked owlishly at her for a moment before accepting it from her. “Yes, Miss French,” he said, climbing to his feet and stepping out of his trousers.

He settled on his back atop the covers, and Belle climbed up to join him. Mindful not to snag the sheets with her stilettos, she carefully straddled over him backwards, turned away with her calves extended toward him so he could have an unobstructed view of her shoes.

He could see the soles of her shoes in their position, and for a moment he imagined what it might be like to be trampled by her. How honored he’d be for her to walk over him. He wouldn’t tolerate such disgrace from anybody else, but from Belle, it’d be a privilege.

“Tell me.” Belle said, glancing over her shoulder at him. “What's the most important rule, Rum?”

“Ladies first.”

“Very good.” She lifted her hips and lined him up, before lowering herself over him. She drew a long, staggered breath as she took him into the hilt.

“Well don't be shy now,” Belle chuckled, looking over at him again. “You can touch.” She insisted, shooting a glance at her heels which cradled either side of his hips.

“Right.” He stammered, gliding his hands over her shoes. “Thank you, Miss French.”

He watched as she began rolling her hips against him, her bottom slowly rising and falling as she pumped him. He gently traced his fingers along the shank of the heels, delighting in the ridged texture of the Louboutin signature etched into their sinfully bright red soles.

“You feel so good inside me, Rum” Belle moaned, but he could only muster a grunt in response. He grasped the narrow spikes of her shoes and began dragging his fingers up and down them, following her rhythm.

Belle gradually quickened her pace, her chestnut hair beginning to sway and glisten with her movements. She was so beautiful, he thought. So utterly perfect. He had to tell her.

“You're incredible, sweetheart.” He managed between breaths. “Y-You’re so good to me. I don't deserve—”

He was cut off by Belle suddenly going faster. She gasped and moaned and he thought he might come right that instant. Watching her come undone was something he still hardly felt worthy of.

“Belle!” He grunted. “Darling, please—”

“Not yet,” she gasped, continuing to ride him.

He gripped her feet tightly, trying to ground himself. _Ladies first_ , he repeated to himself. _Ladies first._ She was practically slamming into him now, her head thrown back as she raced to her climax. She arched her back and let out a gasp.

“Oh, _God!”_ She groaned and arched further, seeking friction against that perfect spot within her.

He held on while she continued to grind against him ardently. She was too rousing to watch, yet he couldn't chance another look at her heels. He just clenched his eyes shut and bit down on his cheek until _finally_ , she cried out and tightened around him. He tilted his hips into her and she cried out again.

“Rum…” she panted.

That was all the invitation he needed. He glanced back down at her shoes, rubbing his hands over the patent leather, and began thrusting his hips into her. His shoulders suddenly lifted off the mattress and she nearly sang as he spilled himself inside of her with a deep groan. Completely spent, they each collapsed back onto the bed, lying limp while they recovered.

With his wits finally about him, Mr Gold sat up and slipped each of the heels off of Belle's feet. He tossed them on the floor where they landed with a thud, and crawled over to his wife.

“Oh, Rum…” she sighed contentedly. “You were so perfect for me tonight.” She combed her fingers through his sweat-tangled hair, tucking it behind his ears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart.” He whispered, gaping at her in awe of how beautiful she was.

She smiled and leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I love you too.”

They spooned there for a moment, almost falling asleep until Belle excused herself to use the bathroom. Mr Gold took the opportunity to put some boxers on and put her clothes away, gingerly setting the Louboutins back on the shelf in the closet. He grabbed a book off of Belle's nightstand and sat on the floor beside the wing-back chair, waiting for her to return.

She reemerged from the bathroom and smiled as she spotted him.

“Come, Belle.” He said, patting a hand on the cushion.

“What's this?” She asked, biting back a smile as she stepped over and settled in the chair.

He handed her the book and situated himself at her feet.

“I thought you might enjoy a foot massage while you read.” He murmured, already rubbing the soles of her sore, tired feet.

“I might,” she giggled, wiggling her toes. “But actually… I uh, I think might enjoy a foot massage while I talk to my husband even more.”

“Well then,” he snickered, plucking the book off of her lap and setting it on the floor. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”


End file.
